Vestimentum non facit monachum
by LigeiaMaloy
Summary: A little hunt has its consequences. Two mercenaries from two rival teams meet again in the most unlikely place: a monastery in Scotland. Two guys, one assignment, one mystery, many issues. And as usual - slash. Don't like male x male? Kindly leave now :
1. Chapter 1

_[translations and more information always at the bottom]_

**Prolog**

**The Hunt**

By nothing more but mere luck the last bullet had missed him. He had given up looking over his shoulder, trying to spot the shooter – it was too dark and the field offered too many possibilities to hide, but only for someone who was familiar with this area. Darkness had fallen over the landscape hours ago and only the crescent faintly illuminated his surroundings with its clear, cold light, making him an easy target for a skilled eye while his own could hardly distinguish the different outlines of obstacles from shadows. Night-blind and on the run at this late hour - he knew he had been lucky so far not to be shot and not to have broken a bone yet.

He jumped to the side when a sudden rustling noise came from his left, only to see that a small creature of the size of a hare scurried through the night. Silently he scowled as the animal reminded him of the Scout – he couldn't curse aloud, breathing already started to hurt.

'They chase me' – the brat had said.

'Take the documents and safely wander home, nobody gonna notice.'

Great plan.

Somebody _had_ noticed and that somebody fired at him, hunted him through the night like his helpless prey. He had already been far away enough to only see the silhouette of the building against the night – more or less only visible for him because of the illuminated windows - when the first bullet hit the dust only a few inches to his left. The next a few inches to his right.

And when another shot whistled past his ear, touched his hair and almost knocked off his glasses, only half an inch away from his skull, he realized it – he was hunted, and if the shooter really wanted to kill him right away he would have done so. Instead, he was used as a toy, by a bored marksman who had probably been guarding his spot for hours and was only too ready to amuse himself with a cruel live entertainment show.

He ran as fast as he could, stumbled over the rough ground more than once – being unable to see roots or stones until he fell over them made things worse - and after avoiding one bullet by taking cover behind a trunk a quick, sharp pain shot through his ankle – sprained. No, he wasn't in the shape for this, after all, he wasn't the fighter of the team. His only asset against the hunter was his swiftness and obviously all this would earn him was to live a few minutes longer. And mean more enjoyment for the shooter.

But he gritted his teeth. He had suffered from more serious injuries and had always been able to escape; a little pain wouldn't stop him from surviving.

The rabbit had disappeared into the night and the last bullet had flown about two minutes ago – a short time that didn't tempt him to decrease his speed. On the contrary, he tried to muster up what strength and breath he had left – ignoring the burning pain in his lungs – and ran as fast as he could, his hope growing with every passing second. Maybe the hidden attacker had really run out of ammo. If that was true he would have a real chance to survive this. In spite of himself he began to hope he would get out of this mess alive.

Although only filled with paper sheets the leather suitcase in his hand felt heavy, like filled with lead. His hand already hurt from gripping the handle so frantically that his knuckles shone white. The dirt beneath his boots was dry – it hadn't rained for a week – and the ground was hard, yet he almost slipped when his weary feet lost their grip. He managed not to fall down. Staggering forward he risked another look behind and almost froze in his movement. The dark world in front of him was a diffuse mass in his eyes, but he was sure he saw a shadow moving, still several feet away, between two rocks, and he felt his blood turning cold. The marksman had followed him. A hand-to-hand fight meant his defeat.

He ran on, half turned around, cold sweat on his forehead and his heart pumping.

'Wo ist er?'

He tried to listen into the darkness, but the sound of his own panting was too loud, as was his heartbeat, and the blood that rushed through his ears drowned every noise around him.

Hectically his eyes wandered from one rock to tree trunks and back, but strange shadows already mixed with reality, confusing his vision, hindering his brain from distinguishing existing shapes from nightly illusions. He only hesitated for the part of a second as a new, whistling sound, quite different from a bullet, cut through the air - and a sudden pain forced a cry from his mouth when the head of an arrow pierced through his clothes right into the flesh of the side of his hip. The hope to escape shattered.

Being out of ammunition didn't stop his predator, he had simply switched weapons.

Clenching his teeth he gripped the arrow by its shaft and pulled it out at one go without wavering any more second. He turned forward and ran as fast as he could, now hunted by arrows instead of bullets and he wasn't sure if it was his luck again or the man's skill that several projectiles kept missing again.

Another arrow hit the dirt more than four feet to his right and he prayed that the man's aim finally grew tired. Then he suddenly heard rushing footsteps on the solid earth and the next hit its mark – the suitcase. The shooter wasn't weary – he ran and shot both at the same time.

Adrenaline flowed through his body as the sheer fear for his life gave him another boost of speed and stamina.

The next shot hit his left calf. His throat was too sore for screaming, so he fell down with nothing more than a pathetic, pained cry while the marksman quickly closed the distance.

x x x

The arrowhead had buried itself too deep into his leg, he knew he couldn't pull it out as easily as the first one. Desperately he fought the pain and the wish to simply lie down and be over with it – instead he got back on his right foot, reaching for the suitcase that lay next to him on the earthy ground. But before he could leap forward something – or rather someone – pulled him back.

The man had grabbed his coat and only a second later wrapped his arms around his waist and held him back from escaping.

Both fell into the dirt and he struggled to turn around, his back now on the hard ground. The stranger bending over him was stronger and pushed him down easily – when he tried to shove him away and punch him the man simply seized his wrists and pinned him down. A wide, crimson hood that had hidden his face before had slid down, his angular features now clearly visible in the moonlight even for his eyes.

His leg felt numb after the shaft of the arrow had broken during their downfall. And straddled by the hunter, held down like this made him suddenly aware of how helpless he was. Nothing but an inarticulate sound came from his dry mouth when he tried to cry for help, a worthless effort even if he had succeeded. They were alone, somewhere in the fields and he didn't even know how far away from Red's base they were. He winced under the weight of the man's tall body, his feet digging deep into the dirt as he fought him, but all he gained was losing what had remained of his breath all the faster. Suddenly, the man laughed, half amused, half in amazement.

"Aye, there I thought I'm huntin' a serious threat and who did they send? Their nurse!" The hunter chuckled. "Sorry there, Miss, hope ya ain't minding my manners, mate, I mean, my lady."

Angrily, he swallowed a sharp response. Being a Medic wasn't as easy as many people thought and it was bad enough he wasn't much of a fighter, especially with a sprained ankle and two wounds caused by arrows. He hated being mocked.

"I show you lady, Arschloch." he hissed.

"Eh, what's that, German?" the Sniper asked and the Medic took advantage of the little distraction and freed one of his arms from the man's grip. With one swift motion he seized him by his hair, pulled him down and kissed him. Nothing passionate, just his mouth against the stranger's, his tongue licking over his enemy's lower lip, teasingly slow. 'Stale coffee.'

"Bloody... what the...?"

His surprise attack showed the effect he had hoped for. In shock the stranger sat up, setting the Medic's other arm free.

The German didn't hesitate and before the shooter could react and pin him down again he had lifted his good leg and kneed him in the groin.

"UGH!" Rolling to his side, the stranger gasped for air and held his crotch. Just when the Medic had taken hold of the suitcase a large hand reached for his coat again. He swung around and hit the corner of the case as hard as he could against the marksman's temple. Without reassuring himself if he had knocked him out he walked away as fast as he could, his shot leg limping, and cursed under his breath.

x x x

"Ah, monsieur Snipèr, we missed you."

The Spy had been searching for his teammate for a while now and was relieved to find him alive.

"Did you retrieve ze documents from ze intruder?"

"Nah." the Sniper growled and carefully touched the side of his head. It didn't bleed. But it hurt enough to tell him that he would awake with an uncomfortable headache the next morning.

"Do not tell me 'e outran your bullets, mon ami."

"Nah." he repeated, flinching. "My fault, guess I got carried away with a little game. Hadn't seen he had the suitcase with him at first, thought their Scout got it from what ya guys told me by radio."

"Eh bien. I zink you know now zat zis was not ze case." the French stated, looking at the Sniper reproachfully.

"Well, it was the case _and_ their Medic." The Sniper smirked at his weak pun; the Spy only lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

"A Medic? Mon dieu, and you did not catch 'im? Did 'e knock you out? Give me zat, you are busy wiz your bow and 'olding your big 'ead." Frowning he took the case with the Sniper's rifle from the man's hand.

"Thanks mate. Actually, he did knock me out, for a minute or so. Hits like a girl." He chuckled.

"You are an imbecile, why did you not run after 'im, not catch 'im? Did you not 'it 'im at all wiz your silly arrows?" Of course he had noticed the empty quiver on the Sniper's back. So he had really gotten carried away, using the huntsman instead of the rifle was always proof that their marksman didn't take a prey seriously.

"'course I did."

"Zen why not chasing after 'im? Ze boss is furious, I don't zink she will let ze matter slide zis time."

The Sniper chuckled again.

"Ain't afraid of that old girl. And that Medic put up a good fight. And besides," he grinned at the Frenchman. "chasin' a nurse zrough ze night is not 'ow we should treat a lady, non?"

The Spy laughed at the imitation of his accent.

"'onestly, Sniper, better zink of a better excuse for ze Administrator. Zis instinct of play of yours will get you in serious trouble ozerwise."

x x x to be continued x x x

_This. Uh. Okay._

_First the warnings:_

_another TF2-fanfic by moi, about - Sniper/Medic_  
><em>rather OC<em>  
><em>Harmless so far but sooner or later there will be slash so whoever isn't comfortable with this, sorry, you won't enjoy this.<em>

_About the story -_  
><em>Okay, my beta celebrated her birthday a while ago and as I had nothing else to offer I wrote her something she wished for since... August 2011? Namely a Medic hunted by Sniper.<em>

_And as I usual wondered about reasons and consequences suddenly, a wild story appeared._

_It won't be as enormous or deep as Snowbowl but well, it's a story with a plot._

_And after hours and hours we even found a title xD_

_We welcome you to:_  
><em>"Vestimentum non facit monachum"<em>  
><em>(Clothing does not make the monk)<em>

_I hope you'll like it ^^_

_I plan to update regularly on Wednesdays, but I can't promise that. I'll try though._

_Translations:_  
><em>"Wo ist er?" - "Where is he?"<em>  
><em>"Arschloch." - "Asshole."<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 1**

**Unexpected (en)counter**

"Bloody hell, where's my room?" Scowling, he didn't even try to ban the Australian accent from his growling voice. If his guide were still with him his wording would have earned him a stern reproach; but then – if his guide were still with him he wouldn't have gotten lost in one of the corridors with their identical looking stonewalls on his way back to his room. He had only arrived two hours before and it was past midnight now – the tour through his temporary home had been rushed and he had already forgotten half of it. The long passages and small hallways lay in darkness, only illuminated by occasional torches on the cold walls. As a hunter, his steps were light, yet he feared that their echo might wake the other – the real – monks.

x x x

He had been in a bad mood since he left the base for his new assignment, and the voyage itself along the Scottish coastline hadn't improved his attitude towards his new identity.

The larger cities of Scotland seemed pleasant enough with modern architecture and a solid infrastructure, rebuilt and enhanced after the damages of the war twenty years ago.

But the more rural parts were still backward and the roads downtrodden, even those areas that had been untouched by the influence of any war. He felt like he had been sent back to the Middle Ages, trapped somewhere at the sidelines of those chapters of the Arthurian Legend nobody wishes to read about.

The inner voice of the child born to the wild nature of Australia lectured him, accused him of being unfair – wasn't he usually the one who cherished nothing more than the rough beauty of an unaltered wilderness? He knew this was true. But during his journey in an old, drafty train without a working heating, followed by several hours in a slow carriage with a leaking roof, rumbling over gravel-paths and softened field tracks, he didn't feel like appreciating the countryside's bewitching charm.

If he had bothered to look to his right he would have seen the source of a never fading sound – the rushing of the North Sea, the restless ocean, churned up by the storm. A dark, merciless, liquid threat, promising death to any cocky sailors who dared to sail their ships too close to the bold cliffs.

The spray, carried by the howling wind, mixed with the thick fog coming from the inland, veiling fields and roads and travelers with a white, wet and untouchable cover, leaving an illusion of rain.

The sight offered to him when he looked to his left did not reveal much of the countryside, the fog was too thick and he could only guess how meadows, hills and mountains formed the land; he could neither see lakes nor green forests as they were promised in the few guides he had read – the world was well-hidden from his eyes by the hostile weather that greeted him while he half expected goblins, ghosts and wandering spirits to ambush them, luring him and the coachman into the other world.

Yes, he loved the wilderness; but the wilderness of the warm, dry Australia was so much different from this, and while he tried to learn the role he would have to play soon he wondered if he was able to adapt to this new land when he wasn't even allowed to be himself. For the first time he really acknowledged what the Spy did for his living – changing his personality so often and convincing, comfortable in every situation like he was born to it. And not for the last time the Sniper was certain that the Spy would have been the better choice for this job.

Frowning, he smoothed down the cowl of the black habit, his new, unfamiliar clothes he would have to wear for the next few weeks. Despite the darkness he already saw the massive outer walls of the ancient-looking monastery coming closer, as gloomy as the sky. His new home.

x x x

Tired and frustrated he turned around and walked all the way back. The last corridor had lead him to one of the apparently countless heavy oak doors, but unfortunately this one did only open the exit to the inner yard. As carefully as possible he closed the door. If this forsaken place only had more windows. Or some decoration, maybe a plant or a picture, then he would be able to find his way easily. But everything looked alike. He cursed again, this time louder than before, when he tripped over the long habit – skirt, as he called it – as it somehow had managed to wrap around his legs. Never would he have thought that wearing something like this would actually require practice.

A chuckle caught his attention and he bit his tongue. If he wasn't careful his mannerism would blow his cover before the first night was over.

"Zhat's a very clumsy vay to move for a monk."

The amused voice sounded awkwardly familiar. Slowly, he turned around. At the junction of two passages, maybe 16 feet away, a tall man, only a few inches smaller than himself, watched him through the lenses of steel framed glasses. He wore a black soutane – of the rank of a priest as the Sniper remembered from one of the books the Spy had given him – that only emphasized the slender frame. While he still tried to place the voice and the accent he frantically searched his brain for a suitable answer. What was the right way to address a priest... what was the right way to address an amused priest who had caught him stumbling through the building at night?

But then he lifted his head and pulled back the hood to get a better view. Suddenly, he remembered.

Half surprised and half amused now himself he took a few steps forward.

"YOU are that Medic from the other day! The nurse that got me into this bloody trouble!"

The smile on the other man's face froze the very moment he heard and remembered the mocking voice. He, too, walked up to the _monk_ so he could finally see his face.

"YOU!" He almost spat the word when he recognized the Sniper. "Vhat zhe hell are _you_ doing here?" he hissed, seizing the Australian by his collar.

"Wonderin' if ya just look like a woman in this dress of if ya are one after all." With a grin, he put his hands on the man's upper body and patted along his chest.

The Medic's cheeks turned crimson and he pushed the man away, raising his arm, ready to hit him – but then he stopped. Instead, he turned on his heel and stomped away in a manner that didn't suit his dignified clothes at all, fuming with rage. And, as the Sniper noticed with a raised eyebrow, dragging his left leg behind.

"Arschloch."

"Hey, wait, ya wanka! Come on, help me finding my bloody room!" the Sniper called after him, seeing his chance to finally go to bed any time soon disappear. Besides, he burned with curiosity – what could be the reason for the Medic of the rival team to be here? And why did he have a higher rank than him?

But the Medic didn't even bother turning around.

x x x

When the unexpected encounter with the German put him into a better mood – the night and the breakfast didn't. He didn't know what the time was when he had finally found his own room – actually nothing more than a larger cabinet with nothing but a narrow bed, a small table and a wooden chair. The only decoration was a large cross on the wall, made of the same dark wood like the few pieces of furniture. The thin mattress wasn't very comfortable, but he had seen worse, so he fell asleep at once.

When he was woken up by the deafening sound of a bell he felt tired like he hadn't slept at all.

He almost appeared late for breakfast because it had taken him too long to dress; he felt still unfamiliar with the different layers of his clothes.

The food itself was plain, consisting of bread and weak tea only. A monk he asked explained him that on ordinary days food that stilled their hunger was enough - as long as they had the strength to fulfill their daily tasks in the name of the Lord it was all they needed to satiate their souls. The Sniper didn't know what to think of that. To live this kind of lifestyle and to be happy with that sure impressed him; he doubted he would really be able to endure this for the next weeks. But he definitely knew that he was looking forward to Sunday.

Occasionally he glanced at the other end of the table, were the members of the higher ranks had taken seat. The Medic had already been there when he had entered the hall and talked with a few monks who wore a badge over their right sleeves with a medical symbol – so did the Medic, as he noticed. Was he working here as a doctor? He had been told that this monastery was renowned for their skilled doctors, people from all over the country came here to ask for care and advice. For a moment he feared that the German really belonged here. In this case he was in danger. What if the Medic gave him away?

After breakfast he had intended to follow the monk sitting next to him, but the prior gently tapped on his shoulder.

"Good morning, Brother Nathan." the older man greeted him with a friendly, encouraging smile.

The Sniper squirmed inwardly. It had been some time when he was called by his name, this alone was strange enough, especially when a title was added. But he feared that his mission already ended. In this case he wasn't eager to return to the base and face his boss anytime soon.

"I'm glad to welcome you to our little, humble home, Brother Nathan. I hope we can ease the pain of your soul and heal your mind from the memories of your old life."

Right, that was his story. A man so traumatized by the events of his life that he had just recently heard and followed the call. He smiled and nodded.

"Thank ya, Prior Michael. Glad to be here. Nice country ya got here." That's good, always be polite.

The old monk gave an amused chuckle and waved – at the Medic.

'Oh dammit.'

"This is Father Sebastian." Prior Michael explained when the German joined him. "He arrived about a week ago, to exchange his skills with our doctors and healers and to seek healing from us." The German nodded coldly and the monk continued. "We talked about you before breakfast, my friend, and he offered to speak with you about your sad experiences, and help you finding the way to your search of salvation. This is very generous, as he is very busy with his daily work with us and taking care of the villagers."

The Sniper suppressed a growl, knowing he was expected to say something grateful and humble.

"Thank ya, mate – I mean, Father Sebastian." he finally replied, forcing a smile. 'Damn you, nurse.'

x x x

"iFather/i Sebastian, eh?" He examined the squared room which appeared to be an office of some sort. The walls were covered with posters showing pictures of the human body – muscles, bones, organs - and of course the omnipresent cross. When he didn't receive a response he sat down on the desk the Medic was already sitting at.

"What of that is real? Title? Name? What the fuck are ya doin' here? Don't tell me ya really a monk." Then he remembered something he had observed when he was walking behind the Medic.

"Or is it 'cause of ya leg? Can't ya recover that at home?" Behind his mockery he felt a pang of guilt. The Medic limped on his left leg and he somehow knew that his arrow was responsible for that. Not that he minded to kill, otherwise he would have chosen the wrong profession. But for some reason he didn't like it when people survived his assaults with permanent damages.

His last question finally provoked a reaction.

The German snapped the pencil he was writing with in two and he scowled at the Australian.

"Shut up, sit down over zhere and don't speak vizh me."

"Okay, okay." The Sniper raised his hands in a defending gesture and jumped off the table, sitting down on the stool standing next to the door.

"What now?" he asked when nothing happened. The Medic didn't lift his head. He had picked up another pencil and simply continued his writing.

"Nozhing. Don't bozher me zhe next hour and I von't tell zhem vho you are."

"Fine. Ya not really interesting to talk with anyway." Leaning his back against the wall he pulled the hood over his head, closed his eyes and, with crossed arms, dozed off.

x x x

"Wha... eh... yes, Sir." It took him some effort to keep his face straight and demure. Inwardly he was about to explode – after he would have strangled that damned nurse.

"Well then, this sounds like a very good idea." Prior Michael nodded approvingly and smiled at both of them. "Well done, Father Sebastian."

"Zhank you. Our poor brozher, he has suffered so much in his past but he can't face zhe deep spiritual abysses of his soul. He shields from his pains wizh his rough manners and rude tongue." the Medic explained matter-of-factly, but the Sniper caught the triumphing glint in the man's eyes.

'Damn you, German nurse and your damned Schadenfreude.'

But he tried to focus on the words of the old monk.

"And then you thought it would be a good idea if he takes the vow of silence. This way, he could face his inner demons with all force and open his eyes for the ways of our life here, undisturbed by his fears and inner barriers. Splendid, dear Father, splendid." the old man praised. "But I think four weeks would be enough. We can see how you feel then, Brother Nathan, and decide if it's better for you to prolong the vow. I'm very proud of you, not many of those who have just heard the call are brave enough to undergo the trials of conquering their own weaknesses."

"Thank ya, Prior. Thank ya, Father." Pressing the words through his clenched teeth, the Sniper tried his best to sound grateful.

"Well then, Father, please continue your good work, don't bother with explaining him the rules of the vow, I will see to that." Bustling through the documents stowed away in the drawer of his desk, the Prior didn't see how the Medic bent down to the Sniper's ear before he left the room.

"Never underestimate zhe power of a _nurse_, bushman. Enjoy zhe silence. I vill." he whispered, grinning at the man's glare, his mouth still twitching when he had closed the door behind him and walked down the hall, back to the hospital wing to meet the other healers.

x x x to be continued x x x

_Maybe now the title makes a bit more sense? ^^_

_Yes, I admit it, it's not only OC, but also rather OW (original world, if there's an official term please let me now)._

_As I told you before, the hunt-theme was something we had in our minds for a while. And my personal wish was to write something about Medic wearing a soutane since I first saw a pic on Deviantart (if you have an account there – I put a link to the pic in the description, as well as two links to the clothes, how I imagine them)_

_So, while I smashed my head against the wall, hoping to find a reason for the hunt, or consequences I suddenly had the idea - why not combine both fantasies?_

_Problem: I don't know much about Scotland (but I chose that land for a reason I might explain later, maybe) and even less about monasteries. All I know is from movies like "Sister Act" or "The name of the rose" ^^ Please forgive me if I got the words wrong, this is really just fiction for me and I hope I don't hurt anybody's feelings -_-_


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 2**

**Silent Treatment**

The day had been long, and so had been the lectures, discussions and prayers that didn't mean much to him.

Most of the time he had spent in the hospital wing. There were only minor sicknesses to treat and a few routine checkups to run, but he had been busy learning more about the monks who worked there, especially those who were trained here. The information he had gotten about the extraordinarily skilled healers and doctors were not exaggerated, even the novices were impressively learned and knew a lot about the human body and its treatment, more than he had known at this stage when he was younger. Yet he still had to meet someone who exceeded his present knowledge. However, it was interesting and exciting to exchange stories and experiences; he was especially interested in the ways of education of those healers trained in this monastery compared to those of other clerical institutions in this country. The determination and devotion those young men showed impressed him a lot and he regretted that he hadn't met one of the older doctors yet. And probably wouldn't anytime soon, not if his stay here ended as soon as he hoped it would.

True, the medical facilities were surprisingly advanced, more than he had expected, especially as this place was otherwise, even for a monastery, very sober and old-fashioned.

His feelings for his temporary home were contradictory – on the one hand he enjoyed all the medical talk, he couldn't remember the last time he met with people that shared his passion for research and medicine. And the library was splendid, he knew he could dwell there for weeks, reading and learning. On the other hand - the whole place made him feel uncomfortable, he didn't belong here and he didn't want to. Although living the role he played now would make many things a lot easier, he knew this life would depress him sooner or later. He would miss his freedom, he would miss being himself. His regular life already limited him enough.

And of course there were the consequences to consider when they found out about his identity. Be it as it may, for the time being he was able to deal with living like this, he only had to be careful. And to withstand the temptation to forget his job again like he did today, the last few days, when he allowed himself to get carried away by his own interests. This way he would never come to any results.

He sighed, going through the few papers lying in front of him on the table once more. Without the notes Spy had given him before his departure he wouldn't have any leads at all, but that only reminded him of the fact that Spy would have been the better man for this kind of job.

"Vho is it?" Trying to let his voice sound neutral he answered the sudden knock at the door, shuffling the papers under a pile of books so that no nightly visitor might get a glimpse at the suspicious contents. With another sigh he got up and opened the door, regretting he hadn't reacted fast enough and closed it again. Within a second, Brother Nathan – the Sniper, he corrected himself – entered his room, removed a pile of books from the armchair and put them carelessly on the floor and plunked down into the furniture.

"Vhy don't you come inside and make yourself comfortable?" the Medic remarked dryly and closed the door.

"Thanks for the invitation, mate. Crikey! Why the bloody fuck are they givin' ya a luxury suite and let me stay in a shoe box?" Envious, the man looked around the room. It was almost twice the size of his and well better furnished. The bed wasn't bigger, but the mattress and linen looked softer and the window was actually big enough to let some light in, well, during daylight hours. Next to a wardrobe for the clothes there stood a shelf filled with books and some small boxes. Although there was only one chair – the one the Medic had just sat down on again – the table was large enough for two people to sit on. And of course the armchair, rather obsolete and worn already but still comfy, especially as it was placed next to the fireplace, a nice place to rest or read.

"If it bozhers you, you can go anytime. Vhat do you vant here anyvay?" The German frowned, wondering if he should just throw him out.

"Vhat the hell are ya cookin' here?" The Sniper ignored him and pointed at the kettle hanging over the fire.

"Tea. Go now, I'm busy."

"Can I have some?"

"Sorry, only have one cup."

"Nah, don't worry 'bout that, just need one." He grinned when the second time today a pencil was snapped into two pieces.

"Even if I had ten I vould not offer you anyzhing." the Medic growled, growing more and more impatient. This visitor was not only uncalled – the Sniper's relaxed attitude was trying his own composure.

"Ya hospitality is not up to scratch, ya know." The reproach didn't hinder him from snuggling deeper into the chair and laying his feet on the pile of books.

"Uh, vhat?" Idioms. They still confused him far too often, but of course he couldn't expect much more than slang from an idiot like this. And he wished he hadn't asked when the Sniper's grin widened.

"Ya not a good host, ya treatin' ya guest not very nicely." the Australian explained, obviously amused by the whole situation.

"You are not my guest. As I said, you can leave anytime. Now vould be perfect."

"Nope, no can do, sorry mate."

"I could zhrow you out, you know."

But the Sniper only laughed at this threat.

"I doubt ya would make a fuss here. I ain't plannin' to give ya away, but only as long as I don't have to. Why don't ya save us the trouble 'n just be a bit more friendly, doc?"

The Medic scowled, knowing the intruder was right. It was a stalemate situation – when he uncovered his rival's identity the Sniper would uncover him at once, too. He would do the same.

For a moment he looked at the corner of one of the notes. But then he took one of the books about Scotland's history and opened it.

"Stay if you vant. But don't expect me to talk vizh you." he finally said and started to read.

"I'm fine with that. Don't need ya talkin' anyway 'cause I'm gonna talk till ya ears are bleedin, ya bloody wanka!" All of a sudden the Sniper's mood changed, from relaxed to stressed out, as he spoke on.

"Thanks to ya bloody vow of silence I had to shut up all day, not gettin' anywhere with my job, and spendin' 'bout two extra hours prayin' as punishment for talkin' anyway! That's why ya gonna sit there all night and listen while I talk, got it? And I don't give a bloody fuck if ya fine with that or not! Dammit. That felt good." The frown disappeared from his forehead and he smiled again, crossed the arms behind his head and continued talking.

The Medic had raised his eyebrows during this unexpected outburst and despite his resolution to get rid of this annoying man as soon as possible he almost chuckled at his words. Shaking his head, he focused on his book again and let the Sniper talk, trying his best to ignore him and was glad it worked. At least for a while.

"Hey, I asked ya somethin'!"

Giving a start, he looked up from his book and at the other man, a confused expression on his face while his mind tried to find its way back into the small room at their time.

"Back with us, dreamer?" the Sniper joked with a smirk.

"I'm sorry, vas lost in zhe text, vhat did you say?" Still trying to recollect his thoughts he forgot that he had been determined to ignore the Australian until he got bored and left.

"I asked ya why yar here at this place." He snorted. "If not payin' attention to others was a skill ya were the master. Had to ask ya 'bout 4 times until I got as much as a simple reaction. At least ya sorry, guess that's some improvement."

"If somebody ever called you funny, have a second opinion – he vas vrong, you are just an idiot." the Medic scoffed.

"Maybe, but a funny one. Come on, why did BLU send their nurse to this place? Hey!" A book missed his head by an inch only because he dodged in time. "Bloody hell, ya really havin' a bad temper."

"Give me zhe book back." was the cold reply as the Medic stretched out his hand. The Australian picked the book up and looked at the title. _"History of Scotland's architecture"_

"Ugh, sounds as exciting as havin' a conversation with ya. Here. Get it yarself." He closely observed the man's movements as the German stood up, careful not to put too much weight on his left leg. When the Medic touched the book, the Sniper quickly seized his wrist and pulled him down.

"Do I have ya attention now? Good, listen." Unimpressed by the Medic's struggle and curses he continued with a low voice. "I don't like bein' here. I hate this place, these clothes and the motherfuckin' country! And I don't like the idea of_ you_ bein' the only link to the_ real life_ but there we are. I want to get away as soon as I can and I ain't takin' anymore shit from ya, alright?" He released the other man who retreated at once, glowering at him. The Sniper sighed.

"Listen, Sebastian. That's ya name, right? I'm not ya enemy here. So when we are really on the same bloody job, can't we just work together and be done with that shit?"

He didn't receive an answer. Again all he could do was watching the Medic's serious face while he focused once more on his book, doing his best to shut the presence of the Sniper out. For a while the Australian simply rambled on, like before. Talking about his voyage, how depressing this country was with all its fog and rain. But all the Medic did was adjusting his glasses whenever they slid down the bridge of the nose or sometimes ruffling his hair while was he silently reading on. Finally, the Sniper gave up. He was tired anyway and the nights at this place were short. So he stood up, said a few words of goodbye that were ignored, and left the warm, cozy room.

He closed the door behind him and walked down the corridor, hoping he would find his room without getting lost this time.

x x x

The first day had left him dead tired. At least his sense of direction started to get used to the identical layout of the corridors that recurred over and over again like in a labyrinth of a dream. A dream that hunted him in his sleep – even when he lay down and closed his eyes he still saw himself walking through one hallway after the other.

The Sniper had been tired when he left the Medic's room, but now his mind refused to rest. Loneliness and silence were crucial parts of his trade and he never minded being alone, sometimes watching the same spot for hours through the lenses of the scope until his target showed its head. He wouldn't even call it "loneliness". The waiting game, a mixture of boredom and pent-up tension, released with one quick movement of his finger when he pulled the trigger. When his eyes told him "Now!". Meditative solitude. A state he loved and enjoyed, as long as he could return to the world of noises, motion and banter after his work was done.

But here – he was alone, pushed into a role that neither applied to his personality nor his skills, not even knowing where to begin and the only one who shared a similar burden was a rival he couldn't read at all. Was this Medic a danger or the potential ally the Sniper felt he needed if he wanted to return as soon as possible? He flinched when he admitted to himself that he was homesick – what a shame for a man in his thirties, considering that the base of the RED company wasn't even his real home. But it sure felt like it, especially now that he could lose it once he returned.

The dark corridor around him dissolved and finally vanished and he found himself back in his bed. Without being aware of it he had fallen asleep after all, the transition so fluent and blurry he wondered for a second what was real and what was a dream. The moment when the source of his awakening, a rapid knock at the door, was repeated, he knew he was back to reality. He opened his mouth to invite the caller in, but stopped. No way he would risk another hour of extra prayer or work to be reminded that he wasn't supposed to speak. He shoved the blanket aside and - stretching his arms while he crossed the room with a few steps – and opened the door.

"Oh! It's_ you_" he exclaimed as he stood face to face with the Medic.

"Quiet!" The German looked down the corridor. "You vill vake up zhe vhole ving."

"Yeah whatever." Grinning, he leaned against the wooden door frame, but nevertheless he lowered his voice. "Whaddya want, lady? Feelin' lonely?"

"Vould you stop zhat nonsense? I vant you to come vizh me." he hissed, then he turned away, his cheeks slightly flushed. "But get dressed first. Hurry, ve don't have much time."

"Hu?" The Sniper looked down his body and scratched his bare chest. "It's not like I'd run 'round this place in my underwear anyway. Much time for what?" It was plain that he was in the Medic's bad books so following him into the unknown was probably a stupid, dangerous idea, but he didn't even have to think about it, his curiosity would get the better of him in the end.

"Wanna come in?" His offer didn't even receive an answer, the other man had already disappeared from the threshold, probably waiting in the darkness.

After a few minutes he joined him, still fastening the belt around his waist.

"Yar a strange bloke, ya know that?" he muttered and pulled the hood over his head.

"Shh! Come." was the short reply and the German walked ahead without any further look behind and the Sniper was surprised how quick the man still was, even when his leg obviously gave him troubles.

Both men tried to avoid making any noise as they passed several corridors, the rustling of their robes the only sounds to be heard. After a little while they had reached a stairway the Sniper hadn't even known to be there at all. Apparently he still hadn't completely grasped the whole layout of the building complex.

He followed him when he climbed the flights of stairs and then another until they reached an attic cramped with old chairs and tables and large boxes filled with books. The smell of old, yellowed paper and dry wood lingered in the air. While his eyes slowly adapted to the darkness his guide had taken a small lantern from the wall and lightened it. Dust danced in the warm, flickering shine of the little flame. Careful not to stumble over the discarded bits and pieces they traversed the longish, cluttered room until they reached the other end.

The Medic nodded at a wooden ladder.

"You go ahead." he ordered.

Lifting his head the Sniper glanced upwards, sceptically eying the rusty, heavy looking hatch.

"Why me?" Instead of a reply the other man gave him a light push.

"Alright, alright. Did I already tell ya that yar strange?" Swiftly he climbed the last few steps, unlocked the bolt and with some effort he pushed the hatch open.

A cold draft blew in his face and into the attic, almost extinguishing the lantern. From what he could see it was still dark outside. A glance at the Medic's face answered his silent question and he climbed onwards, feeling like he was stepping into a pitch-black hole that ignored the laws of gravity.

Then the world around him took shape. He stood on the roof of the main wing of the monastery. A strong wind howled around the towers and oriels and he shivered, wishing he had an overcoat with him, or at least put on a shirt under his habit. The sky was dark and clear and countless stars twinkled coldly above his head. Only a few miles away he saw the small fishing village, few windows were illuminated, otherwise the heartland seemed to swallow whatever light there was, even the silhouettes of the mountains vanished in the thick, consuming black. A shudder ran down his spine. He couldn't deny the cruel beauty of the sight, but he was cold and still tired - this was far too eerie for his mood.

A stumbling sound followed by a low groan caught his attention. He turned around and saw the Medic, kneeling on his right leg, his left hand lying on his left leg, the other holding the lantern.

"I see. Why didn't ya just give me that bloody thing or ask for help?" Of course, no matter if the man had used his good or bad leg for the last step outside, one way or the other he would have had to shift his weight on the injured limb at one point. The Sniper took their only source of light and reached out, but the man ignored the offer, flinched, and finally stood up and straightened his clothes.

"Ya alright?"

"Yes."

"'kay, and why are we here? It's dark as hell's dunny, might as well enjoy that while sitting in my cell. Minus the bloody wind. What time is it anyway?" he demanded, still being clueless.

"Peering zhrough your scope all zhe time obviously caused a serious case of tunnel view." the Medic stated and pointed in the opposite direction. "Zhere's always more zhan one perspective. Come." Not bothering with an explanation he went to the edge of the other side of the roof.

The Sniper followed him – the strong breeze left a salty flavor on his lips – and whistled in amazement.

In front of them lay the small island with the lighthouse, its light still on duty in case any ship sailed by despite the hour; but what really caught his eye was the North Sea as it seemed to cover the rest of the planet with its liquid black.

"It's about dawn." the German muttered and the Sniper nodded in agreement.

The ocean was still dark, but at the horizon that seemed to be the birthplace of the waves the first, weak rays of sunlight emerged and while the water glittered in a deep purple the sky was aflame with a bright, saturated orange. Slowly, while they stared in silence and their robes fluttered in the wind, the burning globe rose and set the horizon on fire – a bright, endless line separating sky from earth, flooding the firmament with all possible shades of purple. The water mirrored the sun itself, like it offered the star to the men's eyes on its ever-present waves.

The monastery's walls and the lighthouse, unmoved by the antithetic atmosphere of warm colors and cold air, stood like black, threatening shadows against the burning scenery.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

The Sniper gave a start when the sudden whisper brought him back from his lost thoughts. Without averting his eyes from the sunrise he nodded.

"Yeah. But why am I here?"

"You vhere complaining about zhe horrible country and zhis horrible place. Not zhat I vant to encourage you, but I fear zhat you haven't bozhered me for zhe last time tonight. And I really don't look forward to listening to your vhining all zhe time." the man explained calmly, his voice missing sarcasm and irritation for once. Sniper looked at his profile as he still watched the ocean – a calm, peaceful expression. He gave a short laugh.

"So you were listening to me after all."

"Yes." the Medic admitted dryly. "Alzhough not all zhe time. But it's impossible to ignore everzhing vhen you talk like a vaterfall."

With a chuckle the Australian sat down on the ledge, letting his legs dangle. Carefully the other man followed his example, but preferred a position parallel to the edge.

"Afraid of heights?"

"No, only respect." the Medic explained.

"That's one way to call it. Anyway," the Sniper hurried to continue before the other man could protest. "It's the leg, right? The reason why ya that hostile." He raised his eyebrows when the man shook his head.

"Zhat vas your job, I can be glad I'm alive. Still, to know that hunting me vas a game isn't a pleasant zhought, but I understand zhat I vere dead if you had behaved as expected." He shivered a bit as the wind increased. The orange had changed into a pastel shade of pink, the sun hovered over the ocean with a golden glow. The sky turned slowly from purple to blue, as did the water.

"Good. And I don't hold it against ya that ya ran off with our documents." He grinned almost sadly. "Although ya little stunt brought me here in the first place. The boss's pretty pissed off, putting the blame on me 'cause I wasted my time foolin' around. This bloody job's my punishment and my last chance to make it up." He sighed. "It's a Spy's job. I ain't no good at this investigating stuff. Even if ya hadn't cursed me with ya mute spell I wouldn't know what questions to ask anyway. Ya here 'cause of the murder, too, ain't ya?"

"You are razher talkative for a man vho usually sits in one place all day vizhout company." the other man mocked him and feigned a yawn, avoiding the question.

"Aw, come on, I ain't gonna stop ya from working on the case, I just wanna know. And I still think we should work together."

"If zhere isn't anozher murder zhen yes, ve are on zhe same assignment." The German admitted and paused. "I hate your sense of humor." he finally growled. The answer confused the Sniper and he looked at the frowning face for a moment. Maybe the Medic felt comfortable in this place, it occurred to him as he noticed that the priest's robe suited him well, giving his slender frame an elegant appearance. He would probably always feel clumsy in this_ skirt_. Suddenly, he understood the reply, and burst out with laughter.

"Ya tellin' me ya not hatin' me 'cause I almost killed ya, injured ya leg or am a rival on the same job, but 'cause I called ya 'nurse'? I was right, you_ are_ a strange bloke!" He still chuckled when the Medic kicked against his hip. "Careful," the Sniper gasped. "Ain't eager fallin' down here. And ya don't want to explain that to the prior."

"Vell, if all zhings fail I'll simply take a vow of silence, too." the Medic remarked sarcastically.

"Ya shouldn't be that aggravated 'cause of a harmless joke. I mean, what did ya expect? Wearing that dress at work..."

"That's a normal coat and part of my uniform!"

"...and ya wearing a dress right now." he continued, ignoring the interjection.

"I hate to break it to you but you are vearing a similar design. Can ve drop zhis matter now?" With an annoyed groan he faced the sunrise again.

"And finally," the Sniper smirked. "What do ya expect, fighting with the arms of a woman, stealin' my first kiss on the battlefield." He chuckled again when he saw the Medic's exasperated face.

"Aren't you just a barrel of laughs! I'm sorry and you can believe me, if I had had a better idea back zhen to get away from you I had gladly refrained from_ zhat_. And I'm certain I was years too late to zhreaten your virtue." he snapped and for a moment the Sniper feared the man would push him over the brink after all. But he still couldn't help laughing.

"Well, of course not, but congrats, ya my first on the battlefield. Okay, okay, I gonna stop." he tried to allay the Medic's wrath he could see in his eyes that were almost as dark blue as the sea now. "If ya can't deal with a simple joke, no problem, no more lady-jokes. Can we team up already and solve this bloody case?"

The Medic gave a snort and stood up.

"I vill zhink about zhat. Come, it's almost time to get up, ve should return before ve run into zhe ozhers."

"Fine." The Sniper smiled. Better a quick-tempered ally than no ally at all. This could turn out to be fun after all. He picked up the lantern and followed the Medic to the hatch.

"Can I help ya in some way?" he offered.

"No, zhank you. I can climb down a simple ladder by myself. I'm not an invalid."

"Fine." he repeated, realizing he was chilled to the bones once they were back in the attic, away from the wind.

"This country isn't that ugly after all." he finally said while they climbed down the stairway.

"Of course it isn't. The inner land is fascinating, too. But I doubt ve have time for sightseeing."

"Doesn't matter, I believe your words for now. Ah, before I forget – you are not a real priest or something?" the Australian inquired curiously.

"No, I'm not."

"But Sebastian's ya real name?" he went on.

"Yes."

The Sniper sighed. Obviously his new ally again preferred to be taciturn.

"Can I call you that, Sebastian?"

"You already do, don't you? But don't do zhat vhen zhe ozher's are around." the German reminded him.

"Don't ya worry, thanks to ya curse I ain't callin' ya anything when we are not alone. I'm..."

"Nathan, I know. Quiet now!" he hissed in alarm as a shadow was cast on the floor where two pathways met.

"Good morning, dear Brothers." a calm and sincerely kind voice greeted them and a very old looking man followed his shadow. "I don't think we have met yet? You are the new arrivals?" He smiled, revealing two rows of yellow teeth.

The Medic gave the stiffened man next to him a nudge and bowed slightly.

"Good morning. Abbot Godfrey, I presume?"

xxx to be continued xxx

_Another part that doesn't tell you much because it's too busy setting the stage and atmosphere and being a bit silly at times ^^_

_My Snipers always talk too much for their own good._


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 3  
>Allusive Hints<strong>

Quickly, the Sniper searched his brain for the correct information and almost froze when he realized that they stood in front of the highest authority of the monastery. This very moment he felt almost thankful towards the Medic – as he was supposed to be silent he wouldn't risk saying something wrong or stupid. The other monks smiled leniently whenever he did something that he wasn't supposed to do – they apparently had accepted the story that he wasn't a man of the church for very long, so they made allowances. They were kind souls and he would have loved to talk to them being his normal self to learn more about this world and about what had happened here.

"Yes, Fazher Abbot, I arrived a veek ago, and Brozher Nathan last night."

Sniper bowed his head a bit deeper when his name was mentioned, watching the Medic from below. The man showed respect for the old man, his voice calm and friendly, a bit solemn maybe, but he was completely at ease. His act was flawless and the Australian was relieved that the abbot's iron blue eyes focused on the Medic and not on him. His wrinkly face looked friendly, he even smiled. The hair was thin and white. With his small build and the round back he almost resembled a nice grandfather – or rather a great-grandfather – but the expression of the man's eyes couldn't fool him. They were clear and hard, shining with intelligence, and right now they were piercing through the Medic's eyes, like he was trying to read his soul. The Sniper knew that he wouldn't be able to deceive the abbot if he had to speak to him.

"Is that so." The abbot's eyes rested on the Medic's face for a moment. "You are Father Sebastian. I read the records about you. You seem to be a skilled man. Impressive, for a man of your age, impressive I must say."  
>A chill ran down the Sniper's spine, he wasn't sure if those words were a compliment or a threat. Yes, the abbot still smiled, very friendly actually, but his stare remained cold and calculating. Sniper knew he didn't trust him. If the Medic felt uncomfortable at all he didn't show it.<p>

"Zhank you, Fazher Abbot. I vorked hard." he answered demurely, bowing again.

"Is that so. Well, young man, it won't do unless you continue working hard. Let me tell you, I used to be a very apt doctor myself – and still would be. But alas, my commitments with the leadership of the monastery keep me too busy. Too busy indeed. Mark my words, young Father, if you stop working hard your way ends. Laziness and too much confidence can destroy a soul so easily. Well then." When he turned his head and set his gaze on the Sniper, the Australian stiffened, forcing himself not to look away.

"And this is Brother Nathan." the old monk stated. "Yes, yes. The recently converted soldier who already agreed to take the vow of silence on his first day. Yes, even when I'm not among my dear brothers I know what's going on. The outside world still shines through your eyes with all its profanity. But you, too, will learn, yes, you will learn. And now explain to me, dear brother, why do I find our two newest members wandering through our sacred corridors at this early hour. _Talking_." The voice was gentle, almost sweet and in surprise the Sniper almost spoke, fearing how much the old man actually had overheard. But he bit his lip in time, remembering that he wasn't supposed to speak to anybody. Breaking this rule again in front of the abbot probably wasn't the best idea.

Fortunately, the Medic wasn't caught off guard that easily. He maintained his calm, respectful and self-assured tone of voice.  
>"Prior Michael and I decided zhat I'm in charge of his physical and mental healzh. Brozher Nathan still suffers from his past and I allowed him to talk to me vhen his mind bozhers him too much. Tonight he came to see me because of a very disturbing nightmare. I offered to listen to him vhile ve valked a bit." he lied with apparent ease, but the Sniper still worried. 'Damn, he's good, very good. But we never compared our backgrounds, what if he wants to know more...'<br>There was no need to worry. The abbot searched the Medic's eyes for a last time, and – satisfied for now – nodded.

"Is that so. Albeit I have to admit that I don't think much of this modern frippery of psychology I hold your dedication in high esteem, Father Sebastian. I still think that hard work and a life led by the words of our Lord is all a man's mind needs to be healthy. But maybe I'm just getting old." He was still smiling and again the Sniper wasn't sure if the abbot praised or reprimanded the Medic.  
>"Well then, dear brothers. It is almost time to get up, a new day begins. I'm a very busy man, but maybe we can arrange a little conversation among the two of us, dear Father, and exchange some of our traditional and modern ideas."<p>

Finally, this strange conversation was over, and although he hadn't needed to speak at all he felt like he had been interrogated. In silence they rushed back to the Sniper's room. Quickly, the Medic looked around, making sure nobody was there.  
>"Just stay silent and nozhing should happen to you. Listen to zhem. Come to my room zhis evening vhen zhe ozhers are asleep." he whispered and without waiting for an answer the German left. Sighing, Sniper closed the door behind him. A few seconds later he heard the gong that was supposed to wake them up. For the next twenty minutes until breakfast there was nothing to do. He was already dressed and if he appeared in the dining hall too early he would raise suspicions. The night had been very short and if he sat down on his bed or even on the chair he feared that he would fall asleep at once. He waited a few minutes and went to see the restrooms. Actually he wished for a cigarette, a quick smoke and a cup of coffee always helped him when he had to stay awake for a long time. But maybe splashing some cold water in his face would have a similar effect.<p>

x x x

After more than a week in Scotland the Medic had gotten used to the daily routine, but it also annoyed him more and more from day to day. The schedule was strict and went for everyone who was inside of the building. Breakfast, dinner and lunch, always at the same hour. So were the prayers. For him those were mere interruptions, he hated to stop his work and studies only to spend half an hour in the chapel. Fortunately he wasn't expected to conduct service, he wasn't sure if his acting skills would cover that. Following a few rules and pretending to speak silent prayers was one thing, but standing in the pulpit and quoting from a book he had only read once – after his arrival – was a different matter.  
>But thanks to his boss' arrangements he could escape this part of the job. And that meant more time for books and research.<br>He remembered how his teammates used to tease him because of his irregular life style with its late hours, nights without sleep, eating in the middle of the night and skipping breakfast instead. Nobody interfered though – he was reliable during assignments and fulfilled his duties as the team's doctor as he was supposed to.  
>But here he couldn't skip appointments as it pleased him. At least he could spend the nights the way he wanted. Sometimes he even slept like everyone else – long nights and no chances to sleep during the day for a few hours were eventually exhausting.<br>However, he was used to the lack of sleep and staying awake the whole last night didn't affect him much.  
>Impatiently, he glared at the wall clock. He had returned to his room after dinner and re-read some of the notes and compared them with what he found in one of the books. When everything went according to his plan this night would pass without much time for sleep as well and although he didn't mind that he hoped they could get started soon.<p>

Like the evening before a sudden knock interrupted his thoughts and before he could answer, the Sniper stood in the room, quickly closing the door behind him, and grinned at the Medic.  
>"Ow ya goin'?"<p>

"Fine, zhank you, Nathan. Have a seat." He sized him up doubtfully. The Australian looked rather tired, with deep, dark shadows beneath his eyes, and a wide yawn added to the obvious impression. But he didn't want to delay the next – or rather the first real – move. He waited until Nathan had made himself comfortable in the same chair like yesterday – again resting his feet on a pile of books, as he noticed grimly, but he let it slide this time.

"Ya know, for a bloke like ya this place's rather untidy." the other man remarked when his elbow accidentally pushed a book from the armrest.

"Vhat have you expected? A museum?" he retorted indignantly, canceling the idea to offer his visitor something to drink.

"Nah, no reason to get pissed at me 'gain. Ya office was kinda sterile, well, except the desk. Had expected your room to be more, don't know. Not to be scattered with books and paper." Then he smiled broadly. "You are the chaotic type, ain't ya?"

Unsure if this was a harmless question or if he was about to be teased again the German frowned, feeling busted and knowing it was stupid of him as it was quite obvious.  
>"Vhat if I am?"<p>

"Nothin'. Makes the room more cozy and you more human, that's all. Hey, did ya think I was complainin'?"

"Like I vould care." he answered shortly, but couldn't help smiling, too. About time to change the subject.  
>"Vhatever. How much do you know about zhe case?" The delighted expression on the man's face was amusing and Sebastian had to hide another smile.<p>

"So it's teamwork then? Okay, okay." he continued with a sigh when the Medic's stare became impatient. "Not much. Shawn Spade, 24, came here to be treated after an accident and the followed surgeries. Suddenly, he got worse, slowly at first, then faster, and now he's dead. Officially his condition got complicated, but his family is not satisfied with this. Although they doubt that his death was natural they just wanna know if they should sue the monastery or the hospital where he was before or whoever did it. That's all." he closed.

The German frowned.  
>"Zhat's indeed not much. Sure zhat's all you know?"<p>

"I'm sorry ya have to trust me here. I need ya help, why should I lie to ya?" He stretched his legs – upsetting the pile of books – leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "My boss ain't the biggest fan of that family, she doesn't care much but owed them a favor from what I've heard. So she hadn't wasted much time on the case beforehand, just made sure I got the clothes. Spy came up with a backstory and got me some information about livin' in a place like this, and here I am."

"So your boss doesn't have to spend much vork and you vant to keep your job. She punishes you and at zhe same time she knows you vould do anyzhing to solve zhis, so she vouldn't be in zheir debt anymore." he concluded and the Sniper nodded.

"Aye, that sums it up. And why did they send ya and not ya Spy?"  
>The Medic shrugged.<br>"He is busy vizh anozher job."

"Is that so."

"Yes, it is, _Abbot_Nathan." he remarked dryly, bowing in mockery, and both man chuckled.

"Seriously, what do ya know 'bout all this shit? I doubt the kid's family asked two companies to check this."

Sebastian hesitated another second and looked into the man's dark eyes. But he didn't find anything suspicious and he had to admit that, except from their encounter a few weeks ago, the Sniper hadn't done anything harmful and there wasn't any sign that he was about to play foul. This man was maybe a nuisance up to the point of being downright annoying, yet he seemed straightforward and honest, with the bad habit to say what he thought aloud.

"You are right, not zhe family. Vell... you see, Spade had a, vell, friend. A very good friend. Zhey met here in zhe village only two veeks before he died. Zhis friend swears zhat he vas perfectly healzhy at zhis time, only a bit veak from zhe surgeries, but he had recovered a good deal. And he vas young and physically strong. He is absolutely convinced zhat zhere's more to his deazh." he explained calmly, shuffling his notes and finally, he handed the Sniper one of the sheets. The man studied the few lines of information – basically the same the Medic had just told him, along with a picture of the victim.

"A nice lookin' bloke. Ya right, he doesn't look weak or anythin' like that." He gave it back before he went on. "So we are after the same thing. But why did he play a lone hand? It's a full-paid job, right? Why didn't he just tag along with the kid's family?"

"Vizh 24 he is – was – hardly a kid, Nathan. But you are right, it is a regular job. It's because the family doesn't know... about him."

"Hu? Whaddya meanin' with that?" he asked, puzzled.

"Vell, bozh men are from powerful, vell-known families, zhey had to keep zheir... acquaintanceship... a secret." He sighed even before the Sniper answered, it was obvious that Nathan still didn't understand.

"But why..."

"They vere lovers, Du Dummkopf. Zhey vere two men, in a secret relationship, including holding hands, and kissing and..."

"Alright, alright, I understand, sorry." he interrupted the Medic's impatient clarification, holding his hands up in a defensive manner.

"Is zhat a problem?" the German asked, irritated.

"Nope. Why should it? Ain't givin' a good damn 'bout somethin' like that as long as they leave my handsome butt alone." He laughed. "Anyway, it's a job, don't care 'bout people's private life."

"However." Sebastian decided it was about time to change the subject again. "Our Spy gave me a few notes with information he had researched before I took over." He searched through the pile of papers and showed another note to the Sniper. Several lines and scrawly notes covered the sheet.

"Our Spy has a prettier handwriting." Nathan remarked and tilted his head, as if he were trying to decipher the message from another perspective.  
>"Underground, pass... passage, isn't it? And 'old cemafairy? And the rest – some kind of map?"<p>

"Very funny, zhat's 'cemetery'."

"Whatever. What is this? The script of a cheap horror movie?" Partly wondering, partly amused he took the paper from the Medic's hand and looked at it again.

"Of course not." In fact, he had thought something like that, too, when he first read the notes. "He didn't have much time so zhat's all he found out about it. He told me zhat most zhings are vague and maybe don't mean anyzhing, he didn't have zhe chance to find out. Zhat's our job now."

"Ya mean we have to search for an ol' underground graveyard that maybe doesn't help us at all? Does it even exist? Haven't heard of somethin' like that here." These news didn't sound very exciting. Maybe they could be, if he didn't feel this might be nothing like a wild goose chase.

"Zhat's because it isn't here." With his index finger he tapped against the book he had tossed at the Sniper's head the day before. "If it comforts you, zhe graveyard does exist. Somevhere under zhe lighthouse, zhat is. It's heritage-protected and not easy to find and zherefore not open for tourists, zhat's vhy only zhose vho live here know about it. Zhe entrance is only accessible from zhe vater."

"Beautiful. What does the place look like?"

"Zhis, _partner_, is vhat ve vill find out tonight." the Medic replied with a sweet voice as he stood up from his chair, opened the wardrobe and threw a thick jacket on the Sniper's lap. "Come on, it's already late. Ve have to go zhere and return before zhe morning, and I don't vant to run into zhe abbot again vizh you on my heel."

"Wait, wait, wait, mate. Ya sayin' we are going _now?_A boat trip and ghost hunting in the middle of the night? Are ya kiddin' me?" Despite his protest he followed the other man's example and put on the jacket.

"Vell, a priest and a monk on a boat trip and ghost hunting at noon vouldn't make a good horror movie, don't you zhink?"

x x x

Sneaking out of the old building was easy. Everyone was asleep at this late hour, after a long day filled with hard work and honest prayers their souls rested, dreamless, recovering strength for another day to come. The sound of their shoes on the floor echoed from the walls although they tried to be as quiet as possible. In all this thick, cold silence between heavy stone walls even the slightest noise seemed to explode in their ears, but nobody heard or saw them.  
>The monastery lay close to the bay, and their feet climbed over more stones, careful not to stumble or to kick them loose. An avalanche of rocks, even a small one, might caught the attention of the guard of the bridge that connected the small island with its lighthouse with the rest of Scotland. Whoever cared to pay the lighthouse a visit after the setting of the sun couldn't escape the guard's eyes – the bridge was narrow without anything that offered cover.<br>So they hid under the bridge, well covert from any curious eye that might peek out of a window and look at the water. Everything lay in complete darkness, bridge and island being an even darker shadow against the moonless sky. The line between land and water vanished within the black of the shadows and by the moment they had finally pushed their small boat into the water their feet were wet and cold.  
>Although they had brought a small lamp with them they decided against lightening it now, even the smallest flame would have given them away. Slowly, very slowly they moved forward, the wooden hull glided through the water without making a sound. The sea was calm this night, only an ever-present wind howled between the pillars of the bridge and along the cliffs of the bay.<p>

"No offense, but seriously, don't ya think I'm stronger? I think we should switch positions." the Sniper suggested, whispering against the wind and the distant grumbling and gurgling of the sea.

"No. Maybe on zhe vay back, crawling around in zhis small zhing vill only end vizh one of us in zhe vater." With careful strokes, the Medic moved the boat forward. "And I don't vant to risk zhat you drop zhe oars. Vhy do you complain? Zhis is easier for you, only looking, isn't it?" he added after a pause.

"Sorry, just tried to be nice. Keep a bit more to the right, we are gettin' close to the bank."

The constant wind and the waves had worked on the black stone for aeons, leaving a surface smooth as glass. Once they left the boat their trip became more difficult. The beam of the lighthouse only spent a diffuse brightness too far away to be of use and they still had to keep their heads down, just in case somebody passed by, as unlikely as it was. Cautiously, and slipping more than once, they felt for a path with their hands and feet, the slippery ground and the darkness surrounding them changing the short distance into a death trap. If one of them lost his grip and fell down, his back would crash against unseen rocks lurking in the water and break the spine before the sea could pull him into its depth.

"Nathan? Are you anyvhere close? I zhink I found zhe vay." the Medic called out, his voice almost drowned by the increasing wind, hoping it wouldn't become worse when they were about to return later. The pain in his leg had become stronger, he wasn't fit for a trip like this yet, but as it didn't make any difference at night – he would have tripped a lot anyway and as long as it was dark nobody could see when he limped – he ignored the stinging pangs.  
>"Yeah, right behind ya."<br>The German gave a start when the other man lay his hand on the Medic's slim shoulder.  
>"Don't startle me like zhat!" he hissed.<p>

"I've only been a few steps away, ya should have seen me comin'." Nathan defended himself.

"I'm sorry zhat I vas too busy searching for zhe right vay instead of vatching you all night."

"That's no sort of reason to be annoyed. Dammit, is that a wall or a bloody opening?" Careful not to lose balance he reached over Sebastian's shoulder, half shoving him along the path, half against the massive wall, touching cold stone.  
>"Stop zhat. A few steps to zhe right. Do you have zhe lamp ready?" Irritated, he walked ahead, his hands feeling along the cliff until they only grasped air.<br>"Here, go ahead." he ordered, waving at the other man, urging him to be faster.  
>"Why do I have to go ahead again?" Nathan pulled out the lighter from his pocket and lightened the wick of the oil lantern. "And why do we use this ol' thing instead of a flashlight? That <em>I<em>have to carry by the way? Along with all the other stuff?"

"Because I say so and because I don't know how long and often ve might need zhe flashlights. I don't vant to risk zhat ve run out of batteries vhile ve are still inside zhe cave." he explained, slowly stepping behind the Sniper once they had entered the cave.  
>Again, they were swallowed by darkness, but within a few seconds, the small flame illuminated the way in front of them, at least for five or six feet. The soft light was reflected by moist, black walls and half of the path was filled with dark water, the glittering reflections moving with them as they stepped forward. Here, too, the ground was slippery, but less smooth, rocks and even a few roots of ancient, long dead trees more than once hindered the Medic's steps.<br>It was impossible to say what lay in front of them, or how deep under the earth's surface they were – once the entrance was left behind their world only consisted of the wall to their left, the water to their right and the few steps they could look ahead. The air was cold and unmoved, less chilly than outside, but the smell of rotten plants, wet earth and stone created the image of a grave inside Sebastian's head, and they were buried alive.  
>It didn't matter if he looked back over his shoulder or past the Sniper's body, he could only peer into darkness – in the weak shine of their lantern just the taller man's face with its clear, rough shape and soft lines around the eyes was visible to him. Feeling uncomfortable because someone who was supposed to be his enemy seemed to be the only hint of life and warmth in this secluded, cold world the young Medic focused on the man's back again. He could hear him breathe, the only other sound besides their footsteps and the drops of water that dripped from the walls and the unbreakable ceiling.<p>

"Verdammt!" His thoughts had distracted him for a moment and this time, when his foot stumbled over a pile of stones, he couldn't keep his balance. Instinctively he reached out, but missed the other man's clothes only by an inch. Before his body hit the hard ground, a strong hand seized him by his arm and pulled him upwards. He staggered, again tripping over his own feet and fell against the Sniper's chest, who still held his arm, almost knocking both of them over while his fingers clenched into the fabric of Nathan's jacket.

"Bloody hell, are ya alright? Dammit, I'm an idiot, what's with ya leg?" the Australian cried out, his back hitting against the wall, in one hand holding the lamp, careful not to drop it, with the other keeping the Medic on his feet.

For a few seconds, both recovered their breath, assuring themselves that they finally stood steady. The sudden rush of adrenaline decreased and Sebastian realized he heard the other man's heart beating through the layer of clothes. Abruptly he released the jacket and stepped back, trying to find his own balance, and shrugged off the Sniper's hand.  
>"I'm okay, just tripped. Sorry, I mean, zhank you. Don't vorry. Let's go on." His face felt too warm right now and he missed the breeze. He turned away, taking another step forward, ignoring the sting in his leg, when he was seized by the shoulder and pulled back, partly crushing against the wall and Nathan.<p>

"Vhat are you...!" But the man cut him off before he could finish his sentence.  
>"Idiot, ya were walking straight to the edge, are ya planning to swim ahead? I have no idea how deep this lake...river.. thing is." Sniper scolded and the Medic blushed. Of course, before he had been facing the wall, a 180° turn meant facing the water. A stupid mistake.<br>"Sorry... it's confusing in zhe dark. I vill be more careful, can ve go on now?" he quickly apologized, moving away from the wall and the Sniper, this time paying more attention to his movements, using the weak light as much as he could. At least he was sure he was facing the correct direction.

"Are ya really okay? Ya know, I zhink ya should go ahead, holding that lamp. Could be easier for you to avoid rocks and all." he offered, but the German shook his head.

"No. I don't vant to discuss zhis. Let's go." He frowned and glared impatiently at the other man, but didn't receive a direct answer.  
>"Vhat's vrong?"<p>

"Sebastian, my face is over here, ya were scarin' the wall to death with that look." Nathan lifted his arm a bit, holding the lantern next to his head.

"I don't know vhat's zhe problem, it's dark in here." he replied, realizing that the Sniper was right.

"Don't say. But not _that_ dark." He shook the lamp to emphasize his words. "Lemme test something." Without waiting for an answer he lowered the lamp, hiding it behind his back. Everything went dark again, no matter how much the Medic blinked, the faint light was too weak and diffuse to make any difference to him.  
>"Don't move." the voice in front of him said and he shivered. When the Sniper went on alone or planned to attack him there was nothing he could do. A few seconds of complete silence passed – he saw and heard nothing.<br>Suddenly, he heard and felt Nathan's breath, only a few inches from his own face away. Giving a surprised gasp he was about to draw back, but again the man took hold of his shoulder.  
>"Careful, ya just gonna fall again." Then the warmth moved away and he felt the empty space.<p>

"Ya practically blind." the Sniper stated as a matter of fact, now holding the lamp between them again. "Ya can't see shit, and the light's not strong enough, that's why ya want me to go ahead."

The German swallowed, angry with himself.  
>"I'm not blind, I just can't see vell vhen it is dark. It's called night..."<p>

"Night blindness, I'm not a complete idiot, ya know." he finished the sentence for him. "Dammit, Sebastian, why didn't ya tell me? Ah!" Suddenly, he realized what was going on and some things became clearer in his mind. "That's why ya haven't been here before, right? Ya knew ya couldn't come here at daylight, ya'd never found ya way in here once ya were inside. And that's why ya talked to me after all and ya finally agreed to team up, right?"

"Vhat did you think vas zhe reason, zhat I've suddenly fallen for your bushman charm?" he hissed back, suddenly fearing the man would simply walk on or back, without waiting for him to catch up. What an easy and uncomplicated method to get rid of him. Well, if he had to, he would fight for their only source of light, darkness and bad leg or not.

"Nothing, just trying to tell ya that you are an idiot." he laughed, and for a moment the Medic wondered if the Australian had lost his mind. "Didn't I admit yesterday that I'm useless at investigating? With no idea how to handle this bloody job? What if ya need my help as much as I need yours? Alright, this clue sucks, but I'd have never found it alone. Come, this damned tunnel must lead _somewhere_." Without a warning Sebastian felt how strong fingers closed around his wrist.

"Hey, vhat do you zhink you are doing?" It was not reasonable to panic, but all of sudden it became difficult to breathe and he wanted to pull himself free, feeling unable to deal with the touch and to be carefully dragged along.

"Going ahead. If ya keep close ya shouldn't fall, and if ya do anyway, I just pull ya up again." He turned at the Medic and grinned. "If we die I'd rather be on that graveyard ya Spook was talkin' 'bout. Don't feel like fishin' ya out of the water and carryn' ya there."

x x x

_A bit late, but sometimes real life is a bit too demanding.  
>I'm sorry ^^<em>

_You won't believe how relaxing it is when only two main characters require your attention instead of nine :D_

_Translation:_

_"Verdammt!" - "Fuck!"_


End file.
